


the trick is to keep breathing

by derriere_le_miroir



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Death, Disturbing Themes, Domination, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, MGSV, One Shot, PW Drama CD, Violence, pre-release
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derriere_le_miroir/pseuds/derriere_le_miroir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During quiet moments of introspection, when he thought in pictures and memories rather than words, Big Boss became the earthquake, the tsunami, the typhoon, and the ever dormant, gracious volcano he used to grow up with; majestic, inspiring. Always present, always expected, a looming threat never forgotten, but also one you learned to live with and prepare yourself for. A practiced routine that still didn't reduce the damage, or fear experienced when a catastrophe occured: the trick was to keep breathing while accepting your fate as a prisoner to the whims of nature, shikata ga nai, they always said, it cannot be helped.</p><p>And when Japan lost not to nature, after withstanding its forces for so many centuries, but to man, he made the decision that he was going to be a victim no longer, and left to find the strength that was rightfully his to claim.</p><p>--</p><p>Pre MGSV release, not entirely canon compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. story

"How often am I gonna have to repeat myself before you finally get it," the man says, with finality, yet slumped in his seat, having accepted another kind of fate. "No. Way. In. Hell."

Kaz rubs one of his temples in small circles. Once in a blue moon, this happens, and it is very headache inducing, like running against a brick wall time and time again, which still doesn't show any signs of crumbling any time soon. Sometimes he asks himself how Big Boss deals with it, gaining newfound respect for him in those moments, if no recruits. There are other ways besides talking of course, but the loyalty ensured in such a manner is fickle and not very desirable.

The thing is that there are really no unpleasant alternatives. Kaz glances over to Big Boss leaning against a table in the back, staring ahead, arms crossed and hard as diamond, before his gaze returns to their handcuffed captive, sitting in front of him.

"And now you expect us to let you go? 'Sorry you didn't like the job offer'? I'm sure you can recognize the problem with that."

"Whatever," comes the answer. "I know about all that crap that happened ten years ago. I'm as good as fucking dead if I join you. Worse, even. So don't," he pauses, eyeing Kaz with barely concealed disgust, "tell me shit about how much better I'll have it. I was perfectly _okay_ with where I was before."

"I don't think you are fully grasping the choice presented to you," Big Boss speaks up, after maintaining silence for almost this entire session, as they like to call it—one must not last longer than thirty minutes, and a single POW never gets more than two. There had been more leeway in the past, depending on either man's mood and patience, but things are different now, and they have to catch up with those ten years just mentioned, drawing Big Boss's attention.

"You will die some day. That's what happens, no matter who you are or what you do."

Big Boss calmly approaches from behind, placing his hands on the backrest of the chair of their captive, who doesn't even deign to look at the man wanting to claim him. Kaz blinks, then glances at his watch, now worn around the only wrist that remained.

Twenty-five. Guessed as much.

"The question is if you're willing to take that risk, or if you would prefer to get it over with now. I will make that decision easier for you."

When Big Boss leans down, Kaz reflexively sucks in a deep breath, and shifts back in his seat until his back is straight. The struggle that ensues is one he has witnessed many times, from many perspectives, and his body begins to ache in places whenever his Boss showcases his preference for robbing people off their ability to speak and resist altogether, knowing exactly how much pressure he has to exert to leave them just as much breath as necessary to say the words he wanted to hear.

"Which will it be."

While the act itself distantly reminds Kaz of a scene in nature he had observed during his studies involving snakes and rabbits, the thought behind it clearly goes beyond any animal instinct, bordering on cruelty. He watches the man's bound hands fly up to Big Boss's arm, wrung around his neck in a deathly embrace, futilely grasping at it, eyes widened in unspeakable terror.

He knows what this feels like, his own body recalling various situations in which it had been trapped in a similar manner, by the same man. Every inch of skin, every flex of muscle--the windpipe slowly crushing, the certainty of drawing your last few breaths in those moments, if you do not adjust. Cold sweat runs down his spine, and he tries to think of it in anatomical terms, rather than emotional ones, but it doesn't work.

_Apply enough pressure where it counts and suddenly a man is able to make the choice best for himself._

Although the other one opens his mouth, nothing comes out of it except spit and dying sounds that make Kaz cringe and avert his eyes more than once.

After about a minute or two, the body goes limb, head lolling to the side. Big Boss relaxes his grip and straightens himself. The body tips over to the side, meeting the ground with a dull, lifeless thud.

Nothing is said for a while, with both men just looking at something that is now perceived as nothing more than a failure.

"I hate it when that happens," Kaz says, pushing his aviators back up the bridge of his nose with index- and middlefinger. "A complete waste."

"Of breath, time, and a perfectly good opportunity," Big Boss agrees. "Quota's still okay."

"Yeah," says Kaz, and reaches for his walking aid to stand. "I'm surprised you waited this long. I was running out of patience nearing the end of the first session."

"Everyone deserves a fair chance. You should know this."

"Then I guess I just don't have as much heart as you," Kaz responds dismissively, taking a first step with the intent to leave the room. Not like he's about to run out of work anytime soon, and Big Boss has his own tasks to take care of, which makes these sessions some of the rare times they are actually physically together.

Other than that, it's mostly just Kaz's voice over the radio as he tracks Big Boss's movements. Big Boss, who now very gracefully steps around the corpse to stop Kaz by lifting a hand, placing it against the man's chest.

"What else?"

Kaz uncomfortably shifts his weight onto his crutch. Instead of giving a verbal answer, Big Boss delicately removes Kaz's sunglasses from his face. Instead of asking, _Have you looked into a mirror lately_ , he says: "You should also take some time off."

Kaz gives him a wry smile, gaze unwittingly flitting to his aviators, and wanting them back. Big Boss folds them together neatly, slowly.

"And waste away more time? Not like we haven't already done enough of—"

"Yes," Big Boss cuts in sharply. "But when it comes to that, I know more fun ways to do it."

*

During quiet moments of introspection, when he thought in pictures and memories rather than words, Big Boss became the earthquake, the tsunami, the typhoon, and the ever dormant, gracious volcano he used to grow up with; majestic, inspiring. Always present, always expected, a looming threat never forgotten, but also one you learned to live with and prepare yourself for. A practiced routine that still didn't reduce the damage, or fear experienced when a catastrophe occured: the trick was to keep breathing while accepting your fate as a prisoner to the whims of nature, _shikata ga nai_ , they always said, it cannot be helped.

And when Japan lost not to nature, after withstanding its forces for so many centuries, but to man, he made the decision that he was going to be a victim no longer, and left to find the strength that was rightfully his to claim.

Big Boss claimed him first, then and now, bearing down on him from behind, and forcing his way inside. He almost chokes on his spit the next time one of his thrusts rocks his body, slow but powerful and sensual in an incredibly rough way. Kaz lacks both the limbs and strength to push against him, his one hand incessantly searching for support, aimlessly clawing at the sheets and the pants still covering Big Boss's thigh.

He moves and sweeps over him with the unrelenting, never subsiding force he would expect, allowing for no breaks or treating Kaz any differently from before. All he does is wrap a stiff arm around his shoulders, in an attempt to support and stabilize his right side, pressing uncomfortably against his throat, leaving him little room to move or breathe.

"Boss," Kaz croaks. Not wanting to waste any more breath, he relinquishes any leverage he has and touches Big Boss's elbow, nails scratching at it through the black leather. He would have laughed, with a blatant disregard for his own life— _kills a man, gets in the mood, what's gonna happen,_ but he treasures his own life way too much, so he tries to pull his arm away, head already starting to feel light due to the increased amount of oxygen his body needs and is being denied while getting thoroughly fucked.

There's a deep vibrating rumble at his neck; a growl almost physical. Big Boss shifts, his mechanical hand moving to bury itself in Kaz' feathery blond hair instead, pressing his face into the pillow. The other one finds his waist, pulling it up and towards his own, sharply, resulting in a loud smack. Kaz groans, bites down, and tastes wet fabric. His body moves on its own accord at this point, within the little space its been given, accommodating Big Boss's large, heavy frame, grinding against him, progressively harder.

He struggles against the grip so he can turn his head just enough, greedily sucking in the air that Big Boss forces out of him in so many different ways; each thrust is accompanied by a harsh gasp, and a stab at his lungs. Caring little for his partner's comfort, Big Boss takes him with the same unbridled force as any other man, keeping him in place under the premise of him being able to handle it, because there's no place in his life for people unable to handle him. Kaz understands this, and takes pride in knowing that he can, reaping the rewards. Satisfaction can take on many forms, even if it hurts—as does his wrist, being caught by Big Boss's prosthetic, pinned against the mattress to deny him even that much control.

There's absolutely nothing he can do, except breathe. That's all he _has_ to do.

"Feel good?"

It's Big Boss's dark voice at his ear, warm breath brushing over his already hot face. He's not sure if he's capable of giving an answer, but he has to give one.

"Yeah," he murmurs, barely audible, pausing to endure the next roll of hips. "Keep going."

The older man presses a kiss to his temple, before affectionately placing soft bites around his neck and shoulders, dragging his teeth down to leave faint marks. He then removes his weight from Kaz's back, sitting up straight without pulling out of him. His good hand reaches around, fingers unceremoniously wrapping around his swollen, dripping cock. Mouth wide open and panting heavily, Kaz tries to catch the eye of the man behind him, who's still mostly dressed, open pants and jacket aside.

"Don't crush me," he jests. Big Boss gives him one of those rare, knowing smiles. There's barely any visible exhaustion, and Kaz is well aware that outlasting him is factually impossible, in bed or out of it.

"Haven't I done that already?"

He's done positioning himself once the proshetic has a firm grip on Kaz's neck, and some strands of hair. His partner braces himself for the inevitable, reaching for one of the steel bars that comprise the headboard.

He squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on not swallowing his tongue when Big Boss starts plowing into him with renewed vigor; listening to the persistent thudding, the smacks of flesh against flesh, the vulgar and wet sounds of his cock being pumped in the same rhythm, coaxing an orgasm out of him. And probably something else.

Kaz fully buries his face in the pillow to stifle his own pitiful moaning, voice cracking while stubbornly holding onto his nonexistent support. He's not gonna—there's just no way, at the mercy of this man, who just never lets go—

_What will you do?_

"I'm yours," he swears, with what little breath remains, at the brink of his climax, but the pillow and the hand at the back of his neck make his voice unheard. Big Boss milks him for what it's worth, and continues to push even as he comes messily into his palm.

"There you go," Big Boss says, pleased with himself.

*

When the Mongols tried to invade feudal Japan, it was the ocean that protected the island nation and fended off the troops; typhoons that should come to be referred to as _Kamikaze_ , or Divine Wind. Up until World War Two, that was the only time Japan had ever come close to being conquered by another country.

He mulls this obscure tidbit of history over as he watches Big Boss's chest rise and fall, resting his eye for a few moments, because he doesn't sleep anymore, especially not with someone else in his bed. They've never done that sentimental crap; no reason to start with it now, and there are better sources of comfort.

Kaz drags on the half-finished cigar Big Boss has handed him before laying down, and the smoke burns in his lungs. He'd never get used to them, much less aquire a taste, but thankfully he does not have to share all of his Boss's quirks.

He puts it out in the ashtray at the side of the bed, before placing his hand on Big Boss's toned stomach, still slick with sweat and something else. Mechanical fingers immediately catch his wrist, and Big Boss's eye snaps open, ever distrustful even when with allies. Kaz doesn't blame him. There are times where he's glad his Boss cannot read minds, and all the petty, vengeful thoughts contained, some of them directed at him.

"I have to get back to work," Kaz says. "Ocelot and I need to go over our supply routes. He wanted something from you, too."

"Hn," Big Boss grunts, relaxing his grip. "Can you walk?"

"I'm not gonna have you carry me."

Not much of an answer, but Big Boss doesn't prod further. Instead, he sits up to collect some of Kaz' clothes, haphazardly strewn across the floor. The other man waits patiently until he returns to his side, and helps him to dress. It's something he can do on his own, if he takes his time, but no less frustrating. He buttons up his shirt with his one hand while Big Boss binds the tie, and once he's done with that, reaches into his own pocket for Kaz' aviators.

Before he can put it on his face, Kaz pushes his hand down, looking him straight in the eye.

"Don't leave me again."

It's during moments like these that he realizes that the sorry state his body is in is all due to having been apart from Big Boss. He'd warned him about that, but Kaz didn't want to believe him back then, too afraid of being stifled and dependent on someone else.

But that's still better than the horror he'd experienced being on his own, with no strength to back and protect him at all, isn't it.

"I won't," Big Boss replies with a stony expression, making no excuses. He ignores Kaz's hand and finishes putting the glasses on, making him look more like his usual self.

Kaz goes on, "If you do, you might as well just kill me on the spot. Like the other guy."

"I'd never..."

"But you already did," Kaz says.

*

In August 1972, Kaz was trying to escape the grasp of a monster in the shape of a man, threatening to swallow him whole. He already knew before breaking down, out of both breath and time, that it was impossible to outrun him; that this was where he was going to die.

Big Boss caught up with him in less than a minute, coming to a halt just a few feet behind him. Kaz gripped the spear tighter, trying to form clear thoughs past the fear that was about to overtake his mind. He didn't need anyone. He'd never needed anyone. He could live on his own, find his own strength without having to become someone's dog. He wasn't like the others.

"Give up."

Kaz pushed himself off the ground, and lashed out at him like a cornered animal, in a last desperate attempt to preserve his own integrity and freedom to decide where and how he wanted to die. Big Boss parried and countered every single one of his attacks, effortlessly, and Kaz was back on the ground again, tasting dirt and humiliation.

The other man took his place on top of him, straddling his waist and placing an arm around his throat like it was a noose and he the executioner. The other restricted his hands, subduing him. Kaz struggled futilely against the man in his back, imploring him to let him go, then angrily sucked in air through gritted teeth, and the memories after that are little more than a blur.

But he he will always remember the man's words, as his pathetic life flashed in front of his eyes, how he hadn't achieved anything because he was too weak, and Kaz is pretty sure he died back then, if only for a brief moment.

"Now," Big Boss's low voice forced itself into his semi-concious mind. "Are you going to join me, or do you want to commit your hara-kiri for real this time? I'll be your kaishaku. Or," he drawled on, with all the patience in the world even as he slowly squeezed the life out of him, "Maybe I should just end it here, with my arm."

He wasn't strong enough. He either died, or tried to find comfort in the arms suffocating him. He felt tears burning in his eyes. The sobs were stifled preemptively, and he was glad for that.

"So? It's time to make your choice."

The breath he had still left was used to save his own life as his resolve finally crumbled, and he hit Big Boss's arm repeatedly, "Okay, I—I get it."

He was released immediately, hitting the ground once more, gasping frantically and filling his lungs with as much air as he could manage.

That was all he had to do now. Everything else was out of his hands.


	2. illustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commission.  
> Artist: [nikorys](http://nikorys.tumblr.com/)


End file.
